


so high above with you

by teacass (Fushigi)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (this tag works SO WELL), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Dean, Cabin Fic, Case Fic, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Christmas, Established Relationship, Family Feels, M/M, Magical Realism, POV Castiel, Top Castiel, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8708125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushigi/pseuds/teacass
Summary: The headline said, ‘Child kidnapped by snowman.’--It’s December 23rd, and Sam finds a case in Michigan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Supernatural Holiday Mixtape 2016](http://holidaymixtape.tumblr.com/). Inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubeVUnGQOIk) \- I couldn't help but think of Cas while listening to it. 
> 
> Thanks to Lauren and Diamond for beta-reading!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the fluff and cheesiness!

The headline said, ‘Child kidnapped by snowman.’

“A _what_?” Dean snapped.

“Parents of an eight-year-old boy from Rose City, Michigan, claim they saw their son fly off with a snowman-shaped figure in the middle of the night,” Sam read aloud, fingers tapping the screen of his tablet. “The police are investigating the matter, but the boy hasn’t been found so far. The parents and the neighbours confirm that the snowman has indeed disappeared from the Hendersons’ front yard, but no one has seen it fly around before.”

“Not a case,” Dean said. “Kid’s probably a runaway.”

“Uh, and what about the flying snowman?” Sam opened his arms in exasperation. “Definitely a case.”

“No such thing as a flying snowman, dude,” Dean said and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Mary hummed. “Sounds suspicious.”

“Yeah, exactly! Cas, what do you think?” Sam turned his face towards Castiel. “Ever heard of magical snowmen?”

Castiel met Dean’s eyes, but Dean looked away almost immediately. “I haven’t, no,” he said. “The article doesn’t confirm it _was_ a snowman, though. It was only shaped like a figure made out of snow. It could have been anything.”

“Shapeshifter posing as a snowman?” Sam scratched his head. 

“Maybe something possessed it,” Mary suggested. “Brought it to life.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s in _Michigan_ ,” he muttered.

“It’s not that far,” Sam mused. “We could be there by tomorrow morning.”

“It’s December 23rd.”

All three pairs of eyes turned to Dean. 

“Your point?” Sam asked.

Dean scoffed, eyes downcast, then stood up with a wave of his hand. “Whatever. Just… whatever, dude.”

Castiel made a move to stand up, too, fingers itching to touch Dean’s hand, to pull him close — it’d been too long since he last held him — but Mary’s soft words interrupted him.

“You can be back in time for Christmas, honey,” she said.

Castiel watched as Dean turned to her, his face stony but eyes vulnerable. He kept his gaze on him even when Dean shot him an angry glance and gripped the edge of the kitchen table.

“Two days to kill the evil snowman and make it back?” Dean asked. “Sounds unlikely.”

“We’ve had shorter cases,” Sam said. 

“You can stay here. I can join Sam and Mary and—” Castiel’s words faded out when Dean turned a dark glare at him. He sunk in his chair, taken by surprise by Dean’s open hostility.

“Oh, _right_ ,” Dean barked. “I’ll just wait here, then.”

Beside Castiel, Sam snorted a laugh, but stopped as soon as Dean glowered at him, too.

“Dean,” Mary said. She stood up and rounded the table to put a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Are you worried we won’t have time to prepare for the holidays if you take this case?” 

Dean blinked at her. “ _We_?”

“Oh, I’m not going,” she said confidently. “It’s cold. I also made an appointment to meet Jody Mills tomorrow, like you suggested.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love her,” Sam said, beaming. “Are the girls coming, too?” 

“I think so, yeah. I’m gonna ask them to stay longer and celebrate with us.” Mary turned to Dean again and touched his face with her hand. “We’ll wait for you to get back, I promise.”

“And what if it takes longer?”

“We’ll wait,” Mary repeated.

Dean nodded and let out a quiet sigh. Castiel could see his chest move, his broad shoulders slumping a little. Their gazes met, again, and locked for a long moment. 

“Okay,” Dean said finally. “We’re leaving in an hour.”

❄❄❄

The morning was chilly and white, the first light of dawn painting the snow in pinks and golds. Sam stopped the car in front of a shabby-looking diner. It took Dean a second to wake up, but when he scrambled out of the backseat, he still looked half-asleep and grouchy.

Castiel slid up to him behind Sam’s back.

“Good morning,” he said and lifted his hand to comb through Dean’s tousled hair with his fingers.

Dean stared at Castiel’s face for a moment. “Yeah,” he grunted finally. He slapped Castiel’s hand away. “Okay.”

Castiel watched him enter the diner after Sam with an unpleasant pang in his chest.

The brothers took their places on one side of the booth, which left Castiel to perch across from them and watch as they ordered coffee and breakfast. Sam shot Castiel a questioning look over his menu, but Castiel just shook his head.

“What’s the plan?” he asked ten minutes later. Waiting didn’t use to bother him that much, but he was finding idleness quite frustrating nowadays.

“Talk to the police, then the parents, then the neighbours, if necessary?” Sam suggested and slurped his coffee.

“Are we splitting up?” 

“We could.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe after talking to the police, though.”

“Dibs on the parents,” Dean said.

“Cool, I wanted to ask around the neighbourhood, anyway,” Sam said. “You both can take the parents.”

Dean made a face. “What? Why?” He didn’t look at Castiel, but made a vague gesture in his direction. “You’re gonna need him to talk to all those people.”

“It’s not gonna take that long.” Sam shrugged. “And we need at least two pairs of eyes to look at the kid’s house and check his parents. Who knows what you’ll find out.”

“I thought the snowperson was the main suspect,” Castiel said in a quiet voice. He tried to ignore the unhappy expression on Dean’s face. “Do you think the parents are to blame?”

“I’m just trying to cover all the bases,” Sam said. “The way they behave can tell you a lot about the situation, so, you know. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“Yessir,” Dean muttered. He got to his feet, threw a bill on the table, and left the diner without a second glance.

Castiel felt Sam’s gaze on him even before he looked away from Dean’s retreating figure.

“Something happened?” Sam asked, sounding worried.

Castiel schooled his features into something more casual. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been in the bunker much recently.” Ignoring the way his insides twisted at the thought that _this could be the reason_ , he blinked innocently at Sam. “Did something happen while I was away?”

Sam didn’t answer for a long moment, his eyes narrowed and calculating. “I… don’t think so.”

“Oh.” Castiel stood up and flattened his wrinkled coat. “Okay.”

“Cas.” Sam dropped another bill onto the table and got to his feet, as well. “Have you even talked to Dean recently?”

“We’ve been driving all night, and he was asleep for a half of it,” Castiel said. “We haven’t really had—”

“What about yesterday?” Sam squinted at him.

“We… talked about the case?” Castiel hesitated.

“We talked about the case _together_ ,” Sam emphasised. “You didn’t have a moment to just talk? How long has it been since you last visited?”

Castiel could feel trepidation flooding his stomach, but it wasn’t his favourite type of feeling, so he tried hard to fight it, which was why his next response came out a little too aggressive even for his own liking. 

“I’ve been busy, Sam. I don’t exactly own a calendar.”

Sam’s face turned impassive. “Fair enough.” He looked away and opened the door, holding it for Castiel, who went out of the the diner without another word.

❄❄❄

The conversation with Sam left Castiel unsettled and fidgety, and he was certain Dean must have noticed his irritation, even though he didn’t say a word about it. They found the Hendersons’ house without any problems and soon were knocking on their plain wooden doors and introducing themselves to the boy’s parents.

Dean did most of the talking, leaving Castiel to lurk around the elegant house. He only noticed the complete lack of holiday decorations because Sam had kept pointing out the beautifully-adorned houses all around the neighbourhood as they’d been driving. 

When he came back to the spacious, Christmas spirit-free living room, the mother was telling Dean about the scarf she had given her son to dress the snowman he had built a day before.

“Did you notice anything else about the snowman?” Dean asked. “Anything at all?”

“Like what?” the father asked irritably. “It was an ordinary snowman. The kind you always see on TV, you know.”

“You did say it could fly,” Castiel said.

The father scoffed and turned away from them. Both Dean and Castiel looked at him, confused.

“I never said that. She did.” The man pointed at his wife who was sitting stiffly on the couch.

“Because it did,” she said, voice confident. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I swear to God — I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard something, and when I looked through the window—”

“Snowmen don’t fly,” the father snarked. 

Castiel glanced at Dean, who was already looking back with raised eyebrows. 

“This one did,” the woman said emphatically. “And it took my son.”

“And you saw it?” Dean made sure.

“I… I saw _something_ ,” she mumbled. “There was a white, big shape in the sky, just above our front yard… It was dark, but I swear it was that wretched… I could see the scarf. It was blue. The one I gave Tommy!”

Dean nodded, then hid the small notebook in the inside pocket of his black winter coat. “Okay. Thank you for your time. We’ll do everything we can to find your son.”

He stood up from the sofa and Castiel followed his movement. Their shoulders brushed and Dean didn’t step back.

“Wait,” the father said suddenly and they stopped on their way through the hallway.

Dean tilted his head. “Yes? Anything else?”

“We…” The man glanced back at the wife, and she nodded. He cleared his throat and started again. “We’ve got a cabin in the woods, just outside the town. The police have already been there, but maybe…”

“You think your son may be there,” Castiel said. 

“Has it happened before?” Dean asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Mr. Henderson pulled his lips tight. “Once or twice. Tommy, uh, he really likes that place. Maybe he’s hiding in there, somewhere.”

Dean was taking out his notebook before Castiel had a chance to ask another question. 

“What’s the exact address?”

❄❄❄

According to the Hendersons, it was supposed to be a half an hour walk across the woods from the main road to the cabin, but over an hour later they were still stomping through the snow. It was whiter here, and quieter, Castiel noticed when they entered the trees covered with freshly fallen snow. It had started snowing some time ago, but even when he looked up, he couldn’t see it — the canopy of leaves and needles was too thick to let actual snowflakes inside. 

“Are you sure you’ve got the right coordinates?” Sam asked for the fourth time.

Dean groaned. “Yes, Sam, I’m sure.”

“Well, are we lost, then?” 

“No, dammit, we’re still not there! It’s farther than we’d expected, s’all.”

“I can’t feel my ears,” Sam complained and curled in on himself. 

Both Winchesters had the collars of their thick coats upturned, but they barely reached their jawlines. Castiel noticed, for the first time, how red Sam’s nose was.

“Are you cold?” he asked and trudged closer through the piles of snow.

Sam grumbled something and quickened his pace.

“Sam!” Castiel called, then turned to look at Dean. The light in the forest was dim, but he could still see the unhealthy crimson of Dean’s cheeks, nose, and ears. “Oh, Dean.”

“What,” Dean grunted and brushed past him.

“It’s cold,” Castiel said. “I forgot.”

“Typical.” Dean’s answer was barely audible with the way his boots crunched the snow underneath his feet.

Castiel ran after him, ungraceful and stumbling, and caught Dean’s arm before he could walk away any further. Dean sent him an annoyed look and shook him off.

Castiel grabbed him again. “Dean. Wait,” he growled.

“Uh, Cas, come on, let’s just—” His eyes went round when Castiel brushed his hand over the skin on Dean’s face, a bright glow in his fingertips. “What are you—”

“You’re cold,” Castiel murmured and stroked the shell of Dean’s right ear. “I don’t want you to get frostbite.” His fingers skittered over to Dean’s other ear, leaving a tiny amount of warmth behind. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier,” he whispered and gently patted the rosy top of Dean’s nose.

Dean’s breath came out as a cloud of warmth. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome,” Castiel said and his feet shuffled closer before he could think. Dean’s eyelashes fluttered when Castiel touched his cheek with his palm. 

“We should… We should go,” Dean stuttered and looked away.

“Oh. Yes.” Castiel dropped his hand and stepped back. “I should warm Sam up, too. It’s the least I can do.”

Dean shot him a look, one that Castiel had no idea how to decipher, then grumbled in affirmation and continued trudging forward in the snow.

❄❄❄

They found the cabin a few minutes later, just as the sun started to sink behind the horizon and the woods got darker and darker. It was a medium-sized, triangular building made out of wood and glass, with a wide front porch, clean large windows, and a snow-covered slanted roof. They didn’t have the keys but they discovered the door was unlocked, probably from when the police had investigated the cabin earlier.

They stepped inside and Sam closed the door behind them with a tired sigh. It wasn’t much warmer inside, but Castiel noticed a big fireplace in the living area and swiftly moved forward to light a fire with a few logs that lay around and a small push of his grace against the timber.

“Tom?” Sam called, looking around.

The cabin was quite spacious inside, definitely bigger than the one belonging to Rufus. There was a small open kitchen area behind the living room, and Castiel noticed two closed doors in the back of the cabin, probably leading to a bathroom and a bedroom. Sam was already climbing the stairs to the loft upstairs, and when Castiel looked up, he noticed another set of doors.

“Tom?” Dean asked and opened what turned out to be a pantry door.

“He’s not here,” Castiel said.

“Yeah,” Dean murmured.

Sam came back a few moments later. “There’s a kid’s bedroom upstairs, but I don’t think it’s been used recently. Did you check the master bedroom?”

Dean shook his head and headed towards said room. Castiel followed him, curious. 

The room was pretty, well-furnished, and cosy, with a king-size bed in the middle, a heap of soft-looking covers and pillows all over the mattress. There was a wide bench under the big window, also full of pillows and plaid blankets. 

“Mhm,” Castiel heard Dean’s delighted hum, but when he turned to look at him, Dean avoided his gaze. “Not here!” he called to Sam instead.

They came back to the main room and stood motionless for a moment, just looking at each other.

“Okay, so…” Sam shrugged, helpless. “Guess we gotta go look for the evil snowman.”

Dean visibly deflated. “You know there’s no such thing.”

“Well, something kidnapped the boy.”

Castiel walked to the window and looked outside. “It’s getting darker,” he said.

The brothers glanced over at him. “It’s not dark _yet_ ,” Dean said.

“It will be, very soon.” Castiel thought for a second. “In twenty-two minutes the shapes will start to blur, for human eyes, at least, and in thirty-nine minutes the sunlight will disappear completely and you won’t be able to see anything.”

Dean and Sam gaped at him.

“We’ve got flashlights,” Sam said, hesitant.

“The temperature’s going to drop, too,” Castiel added. “At least five degrees.”

He noticed Dean shudder.

“But… What if the boy is somewhere out there?” Sam asked.

Castiel squared his shoulders and turned away from the window. “I can go look for him by myself and you can stay here and wait for me.” He saw the dark look pass across Dean’s face, but ignored it for now. “Neither the temperature nor the darkness will affect me, so if the boy is somewhere in the woods, I think I can find him.”

“Dude, these woods are enormous,” Sam protested. “You could spend days searching.”

Castiel shrugged. “I can do it. I know you want to be back for Christmas—”

“No,” Dean said suddenly, voice hard and loud. Both Castiel and Sam turned to look at him, but Dean’s eyes were glued to Castiel. “You’re not going. None of us are going out there.”

“Dean—”

“No, Cas, dammit,” Dean cursed. His hands were curled into fists by his sides, Castiel noticed. “We can wait till the morning and do it then. There’s no point in you going out there alone in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll be fine, Dean,” Castiel said, soft.

“I know,” Dean bit back, face scrunched up. “But I won’t.”

In the silence that fell over them after those words, Sam’s cough seemed much louder than it should have. “I, uh, I agree with Dean. We have no idea what we’re up against, you shouldn’t be going out alone. Let’s wait till the morning.”

Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean, who was staring back, too, so he just nodded mindlessly.

“Okay. So.” Sam cleared his throat one more time. “I’m gonna… go find some blankets.”

Sam walked away noisily, climbed the stairs, and disappeared inside the bedroom upstairs. Castiel’s body inched closer to Dean without meaning to.

“Cas,” Dean said finally, and his hand shot forward to touch Castiel’s elbow. “You gotta stop doing this, man.”

“Stop doing what, Dean?” Castiel asked, his throat tight.

“This… this thing.” Dean gestured vaguely with his other hand. “Where you behave as if we didn’t— you know.”

“I don’t think I do,” Castiel said, although his heart seemed to be hammering in his chest loud enough even for Dean to hear.

“As if we don’t care about you,” Dean said, voice very low and quiet. “Me, and Sam, and Mom. You said that we wanna be back home for Christmas and, well…”

“I was only repeating what you said,” Castiel mutters. “You didn’t want to come here at all because it’s Christmas tomorrow and you want to be—”

“I want _us_ to be home,” Dean said and his body moved closer, the hand over Castiel’s elbow moving up towards his shoulder. “All of us. Because it’s Christmas.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “I understand. Christmas is a family holiday.”

“Do you, Cas? Do you really understand?” Dean asked. He sounded tired.

“Yes,” Castiel said, very quiet. “You’re a family man, Dean, and your mother is waiting for you. I will make sure you’re back in time to—”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned and suddenly there were cold hands on Castiel’s face and Dean was kissing him.

It’d been so long — too long — since they kissed last, so Castiel reacted immediately, arms coming around Dean’s waist and pulling him closer and closer and _closer_. Dean’s lips were surprisingly warm and soft, even despite the cold they had been exposed to, and his breath mingled with Castiel’s breath when they eagerly opened their mouths. Dean licked inside, tongue clever and hot, and Castiel’s fingers tightened on Dean’s hips through his thick winter coat.

And then Dean pulled back.

“Cas,” he panted, his warm breath ghosting over Castiel’s face. His face was pleasantly flushed now and Castiel couldn’t help but raise his hand and brush his fingers over his warm cheeks. 

“Dean,” he murmured back.

“Why don’t you get it,” Dean said. “I want to spend Christmas with Sam and with Mom _and with you_.”

“With me?” Castiel repeated, mind foggy from the kiss.

“Yes, you dumbass,” Dean whispered and leaned in to kiss him again, this time soft and gentle. “You know how we, uh, sleep together sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Castiel breathed, eyes squeezed closed, enjoying the way Dean’s lips moved slowly over his jaw. “Well, technically, I don’t sleep, but—”

“I know,” Dean said. “I know you don’t, but sometimes you… stay longer. _After_ , I mean.”

Castiel hid his face in Dean’s neck. “I do, yes.”

“I’d really like it if you could maybe always stay longer,” Dean hummed into his ear.

“Always?” Castiel pulled back to look at him.

Dean sent him a small smile. “If you… don’t mind?”

Castiel blinked. “And you want that?” 

“You are such an idiot,” Dean huffed and closed the space between them again, this time to rest his forehead against Castiel’s forehead and stare at him through his lashes. “I do, Cas, yes. I thought you knew it.” When Castiel didn’t respond, Dean sighed, his warm breath puffing against Castiel’s face and making him dizzy. “I want you, Cas, all of you, always.”

A weird sound escaped Castiel’s mouth without his permission, and he stared at Dean with his eyes opened wide. “I want you too, Dean.”

Dean pressed a lingering kiss to Castiel’s cheek. “Then don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Castiel sneaked his hands beneath Dean’s coat and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer.

Dean sighed against his ear. “Will you, uh… Cas, you know you have a place at the bunker, right? You can stay there when you’ve got nowhere else to be. We gave you that room for a reason, and you barely use it.”

Castiel moved his head back to look up at Dean. “What about your room? Can I stay there?”

The smile that appeared on Dean’s face after that seemed brighter than the fire behind them. Castiel smiled back, his stomach twisting happily, and wanted to move closer and kiss Dean again — kiss him senseless for all those days he hadn’t been there because he’d wanted to give Dean more time with his mom and brother — but then suddenly Dean’s own stomach rumbled loudly.

Dean huffed a surprised laugh. “Oops.”

Castiel grinned, leaned in to plant a small kiss on Dean’s smiling lips, then stepped back. “Should we call Sam and make dinner?”

“I like that plan,” Dean said. “You think this place has anything to eat?”

❄❄❄

“So have you guys noticed there are, like, no decorations in here?” Sam asked. He was sprawled in the wide armchair he’d dragged from the other side of the cabin towards the couch and the fireplace, a red and black plaid blanket thrown over his long legs, and a mug of tea in his hands. There was an empty plate on the coffee table in front of him, where the sandwiches had been before.

“Yup,” Dean mumbled, chewing a cookie. “Same as back in the house.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Sam scowled.

Dean swallowed and a few crumbles fell past his lips onto his shirt. Castiel reached out and swept them away, then brushed a finger against Dean’s lower lip to get rid of the last wayward crumble. Dean smiled at him.

When Castiel looked back at Sam, pleased with himself, with his shoulder pressed warmly against Dean’s as they sat on the couch, he caught Sam making a face at them.

“Maybe it was better when you were fighting,” Sam pouted.

“We weren’t fighting,” Castiel said. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t even wanna know,” Sam said, but then cracked a smile at them. Castiel felt himself relax again. “Okay, but going back to the topic at hand, what do you think is the matter with the decorations? I mean, it’s a freakin’ winter cabin in the middle of the woods. There’s plaid and fire and hot chocolate, but no holidays?”

“Maybe they’re not religious.” Dean shrugged.

Sam frowned. “Plenty of unreligious people celebrate Christmas,” he said. “Hell, _we’re_ not religious.”

Dean chuckled. “Don’t know about that anymore. I mean, we’ve met God, capital G.”

Sam snorted. “True. And you’re dating an angel.”

Dean fidgeted on the couch and pressed closer into Castiel’s side. “I am,” he said with a soft, contented sigh.

Castiel leaned towards him, brought an arm around his shoulders, and hugged him closer, grazing his lips against Dean’s temple. Sam made a pained noise, but Castiel’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see his face. A moment later, Dean moved his head and caught Castiel’s lips with his own in a languid, chocolate-tasting kiss. 

Sam yelped. “That’s it, I’m going to sleep. _Upstairs_!” 

Dean giggled against Castiel’s lips as Sam’s heavy stomps sounded above them. “What a wuss.”

Castiel didn’t respond, too busy sucking Dean’s tongue into his mouth and roaming his hand over the vast expanse of Dean’s back. Dean moaned happily and hugged Castiel around his middle. The blanket covering their legs slid silently to the floor.

“I’m guessing the master bedroom is ours,” Castiel whispered into Dean’s ear.

Dean shuddered in his arms. “You say the sweetest things, Cas.”

Castiel pulled away only to stand up and offer Dean a hand with a smile. Dean looked up at him, bright fire painting his flushed face in golden shadows and making his green eyes twinkle brilliantly. He smiled, moved forward, and kissed Castiel’s fingers.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel sighed. He touched Dean’s chin and lifted his head up, then kissed him soundly on the lips, the other hand sneaking into Dean’s hair.

Dean gasped quietly, clearly enjoying Castiel’s fingers in his hair. 

“Come on, Dean,” Castiel whispered after another minute of sweet kisses and wet moans. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

Dean panted a broken ‘please’ into his mouth and let himself be dragged to the bedroom.

The door closed behind them with a quiet click, and Castiel pulled Dean towards the bed. They kept kissing as Castiel slid the shirt off Dean’s strong arms, and then as he unbuttoned his jeans and let them fall to the floor with a rustle. There was no nervous rush in their movement and Castiel was glad of it — even though he did have good memories of their first night together, full of shocked gasps, heated kisses, and hasty touches. They knew each other’s bodies now, though, and Castiel reveled in it, making sure to brush every inch of Dean’s skin with his lips as he lowered him down to the bed.

Dean smiled up at him from the big pile of pillows around his head. “S’good. Almost like my memory foam.”

“Ours,” Castiel whispered into Dean’s neck, and got rewarded with Dean’s loud gasp and the delighted tremble of his entire body.

“Ours,” Dean murmured back, hands coming up to catch Castiel’s hair and bring him down for a kiss.

Castiel removed his own clothes, then, quick and quiet and almost clinical, but Dean still stared at him through half-lidded eyes and with his lips parted in a heavy breath. Dean’s boxers landed on the floor next, and when Castiel pressed himself into Dean’s naked body, they both moaned breathlessly.

Taking them both in hand was easy, as was leaning down to kiss Dean’s waiting lips. Dean’s legs fell apart and Castiel happily slid in between them, moving his head to nibble at Dean’s jaw and nuzzle his ears. 

“How do you want me?” he whispered, lavishing Dean’s face with lazy kisses.

Dean arched into him. “Inside me. Please.”

Castiel hid a smile in Dean’s neck. “Of course, Dean.”

Their breathing calmed down a bit when Castiel had to make a trek outside to find a bottle of lube in Dean’s duffel bag and then took a while to warm the liquid between his hands as Dean watched him with a grin. But soon enough Castiel had Dean’s breath hitching and a lovely flush spreading all over his skin with just a touch of his fingers inside him. Dean moaned his name over and over, and finally Castiel complied, pulled Dean’s legs up, and slid inside with a broken gasp.

They kept looking at each other as they rocked together, hands clasped and fingers entwined, bed moaning beneath them. Dean looked otherworldly as he gazed up at Castiel, a litany of sweet nothings on his lips and his eyes full of fire, and want, and love. Castiel kissed him as he rolled his hips and tried to swallow the noises Dean made. 

“Cas,” Dean gasped. “Oh, oh, yes, Cas, that’s it, baby, please, _please—_ ”

Castiel whispered Dean’s name against his lips, reverent.

“Touch me, Cas, please touch me…”

Castiel took him in his hand, uncoordinated and weak as he moved inside Dean, full to the brim with love and affection for the man beneath him. He sobbed, head spinning with all his feelings, pressed his face into Dean’s chest and kissed him, kissed him, kissed him.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Dean murmured, fingers tangling in Castiel’s hair. “I’ve got you. Let go, Cas, just let go.”

“Dean,” Castiel whimpered and came. Dean moaned, loud and unabashed, head thrown back as he felt Castiel’s release fill him. “Oh, Dean,” Castiel whispered, groggy and joyful and weak, his hand still moving in between their bodies. “I love you so much.”

“ _Cas_.” Dean’s voice broke.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Castiel kissed into his skin, into his lips, against his heart. “Oh, Dean, how I love you.”

Dean’s free hand closed over Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed as he came with a silent shout. Castiel kissed him through it and soon they rolled over, spent and giddy. Dean kissed Castiel’s wet hand, smiling so wide he could brighten the entire room.

“Fuck, Cas, I missed you so much,” Dean whispered as their lips met again in a slow, almost shy kiss. “You were gone for so long.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel kissed an apology into Dean’s collarbone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dean sighed and threw an arm over Castiel’s waist to pull him closer. “You know now.”

When they fell asleep, face to face and with legs tangled beneath the covers, they were both smiling.

❄❄❄

Castiel woke up feeling someone’s eyes on him. 

He blinked, trying to shake off the remains of the dream and come back to reality. He felt Dean’s breath on the back of his neck, Dean’s firm chest pressed against his shoulder blades, Dean’s arm hugging Castiel from behind. The room was dark and quite chilly, but Castiel’s skin was sleep-warm, enveloped in Dean’s embrace and all the soft blankets around them. A smile pulled at Castiel’s lips and he wiggled gently to face Dean and admonish him for staring.

Dean was fast asleep, though, half of his face buried in a pillow. His arms tightened around Castiel’s middle as Castiel looked at him with a frown, but he didn’t wake. 

Castiel could still swear someone — _something_ — was watching him. He lifted his head and looked around the dark room, ready to jump out of bed at the first sight of an intruder. But then the feeling disappeared as soon as it started and Castiel was left confused.

He was about to settle back down to the bed, to snuggle into Dean’s warm chest and fall back asleep, when a loud noise made him jerk up into a sitting position.

“...what,” Dean mumbled sleepily, rolling onto his back. “Cas, what—”

The noise sounded again, a loud, curious bleat, and Castiel’s head whipped towards the window across the room.

“What was that,” Dean said, voice alarmed. He sat up beside Castiel, fully awake and ready to jump. 

“There’s something outside the window,” Castiel whispered.

They waited for a few long seconds, completely still. Castiel saw movement behind the curtain and then the branch snapped.

It took them three seconds to get out of bed and rush towards the sound, naked and unarmed but ready to fight. Dean yanked the curtain to the side, his body pushing itself in front of Castiel.

“What the hell,” Dean breathed out.

Castiel stared at the animal on the other side of the glass — a young doe with black eyes and long lashes, completely unmoving. They stayed like that for a moment, all three of them, just looking, and then the doe’s big ear twitched curiously.

“Should we…” Dean glanced at Castiel. “Should we be killing it?”

Castiel turned a shocked look at him. “Dean! No, you won’t kill that doe.”

“But it’s…” Dean gestured to the animal, its head tilted, eyes wide and interested as it gazed up at them. “It’s creepy.”

“It’s not creepy,” Castiel said and leaned down to be on the same level as the doe. It followed his movement, unblinking. “It’s very sweet.”

The doe’s purple tongue sneaked out to lick over its nose.

“Looks like it wants to eat you,” Dean commented while Castiel smiled at the animal. “Why isn’t it scared? Is it because of you?”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t think so. I think it recognises me for what I am, but it’s equally interested in you.” As if to confirm Castiel’s words, the doe looked up again, back at Dean.

Dean shuffled back, self-conscious. “Shit, I’m still naked.”

Castiel chuckled and let his eyes follow Dean’s movement, up the strong lines of his body. “I don’t think it minds. It’s naked, too.”

Dean made a face. “I’ve never thought of that. Thanks a lot, Cas.”

Castiel laughed again and looked back at the doe just in time to see it move away from the window, its small white tail twitching in the dark. When Castiel straightened up and squinted, he could see at least three other, bigger deer standing in between the trees and staring.

He was about to say something when a frantic knock interrupted him.

“Guys?” Sam asked from the other side of the door. “You awake?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. “Yeah! Give us a sec.”

He bent down to retrieve his shirt and jeans from the floor, then glanced over his shoulder at Castiel.

“Where’s my underwear, dude?” he asked quietly.

Castiel smirked and considered lying, just to see Dean completely forgo the boxers, but Dean arched a knowing eyebrow at him, so he pointed to the other side of the bed. Dean brushed past him, his hand slapping Castiel’s ass jokingly.

“Suit up, cowboy,” Dean said and tossed his boxers at him. 

They dressed quickly, ignored the wrinkles clearly visible on their shirts, and walked out of the bedroom to join Sam pacing around the cabin.

“What’s up, man?” Dean asked.

“Uh.” Sam stopped in the middle of the living room. His shirt was buttoned unevenly as if he’d been in a hurry to put it on. “Something strange just happened.”

“Not stranger than our deer,” Dean sighed and leaned over the back of the couch.

“What?” Sam blanched.

Castiel shook his head. “We’ll tell you later. What happened to you, Sam?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, an owl came to my room.”

Dean widened his eyes. “Say that again?”

“An owl,” Sam repeated. “I opened my window for the night because I was hot and when I woke up, it was sitting on the sill and staring at me.”

Castiel frowned. “That _is_ peculiar.”

“That’s not all,” Sam muttered. “It… spoke to me.”

Dean stood up. “What?”

“It talked!” Sam threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I got out of bed to look at it and help it outside, and I, uh, started talking some nonsense to it… It was pretty, all white, like Hedwig or something… And then it just. Opened its beak and said my name.”

“Okay, Doctor Dolittle,” Dean said. “Are you high?”

Castiel moved closer to him and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “He doesn’t have to be,” he said quietly. 

“Cas, come on, birds don’t—”

“What time is it?”

Sam patted his pocket and took out his phone. “Uh. Ten past twelve.”

Castiel’s heart hammered in his chest. “Midnight.” 

Sam nodded, a weird look in his eyes. “What is it, Cas?” he asked.

“In some parts of Europe people believe that at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, animals gain the power of human speech,” he said, feeling both brothers’ wide eyes on him. “It’s December 25th.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh…”

“Sam.” Castiel turned to him excitedly. “Is the owl gone?”

Sam swallowed and nodded.

“Oh.” Castiel looked down, then out through the window. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness, not even the trees. “That’s a shame.”

“But it…” Sam hesitated. “It told me something else.” When both Castiel and Dean just stared at him, Sam laughed, unbelieving. “It said, ‘Go to the woods, Sam,’ or something like that.”

“But wait.” Dean held up a hand. “Why didn’t our deer talk?”

“ _Your deer?_ ” Sam blinked.

Castiel ignored him. “Maybe we just couldn’t hear it through the glass,” he said.

“I thought you could talk to the animals, like, always, not only at midnight,” Dean said.

“It’s not the same. Animals don’t communicate the way people do, they don’t use words. It’s… it’s difficult to explain.” Castiel looked between Sam and Dean. “But the owl said we should go to the woods, and the doe tried to tell us something, too.”

“What are you saying, Cas?” Sam asked.

Castiel smiled. “I think we should go to the woods.”

❄❄❄

“What did you say to the owl?” Dean asked and nudged Sam with his elbow.

Sam buried his face deeper in the colourful scarf they’d stolen from the cabin before going out. “I, uh— Nothing. Just… stuff.”

“What stuff?” Dean grinned. He looked quite warm with a wool beanie on his head, even though he’d refused to wear the red, Nordic-pattern scarf Castiel had found for him.

“Just stuff. I don’t remember,” Sam shot back.

Castiel stopped toying with the fringe of the scarf — he didn’t need it, but Dean had wrapped it around his neck instead of his own and Castiel hadn’t protested — and looked between the brothers.

“Quiet,” he said, and then gestured towards the small herd of deer barely visible in the night, but still keeping close enough for Castiel to see them. “They’re changing direction.”

Once they’d agreed to go out of the cabin and into the forest, they’d discovered the deer were still hovering in the vicinity, as if waiting for them. Castiel had ignored Dean’s weak protests and led them in between the trees, following the animals.

He couldn’t see clearly, but he thought he saw other small beings join the procession — hares hopping around the snow, smaller and bigger birds perching on the stags’ antlers, lively squirrels jumping across the branches. Sam and Dean stomped cautiously, weapons ready and flashlights high, but Castiel felt peaceful.

Neither of them asked about the boy and the snowman, but Castiel knew the Winchesters were thinking about them, too.

They’d been walking for a quarter of an hour, at most, but it felt as though it might have been a few hours just as easily. The forest was calm and quiet apart from the snow crunching beneath their boots, which sparkled when one of them swept a flashlight over it, and the tree branches were heavy with heaps of white. Castiel grazed a twig with his hand and watched as the silvery dust sprinkled down to the ground.

“They stopped,” Sam whispered.

Castiel raised his head. Indeed, the animals stood on the edge of a small clearing, their heads turned away from them, ears and tails and wings twitching excitedly. Castiel motioned the brothers with his hand and they crept quietly forward to join them.

In the centre of the meadow stood a snowman. 

Castiel felt rather than saw the Winchesters trying to draw their guns and he stopped them with hands on their shoulders and a quiet hum. 

“Cas,” Dean whispered, “it’s that _thing_!”

Sam was already looking back at the meadow. “Guys,” he murmured. “Look, the kid’s there.”

As they watched, a short red-headed boy rounded the belly of the snowman in a happy dance. He was wearing a brown sleeping robe and striped pyjamas underneath, but despite running around in the snow, the clothes didn’t seem wet. Castiel felt Dean move beside him.

“Wait,” he said and caught Dean’s hand to stop him. “Just look.”

The snowman’s head moved towards the boy and he put his hands in the air, his loud laugh clearly audible in the quiet of the night. One of the snowman’s white arms twitched and the boy stopped laughing and looked straight at Castiel.

“Oh,” he called. “Hi there!”

“Tommy?” Sam asked, taking one careful step forward.

“Yeah! Hi!” The child waved at them. “Come on, come closer!”

“Tommy, move away from the snowman!” Dean said, voice loud and even.

“What?” Tommy asked. “Why?”

Castiel joined the brothers as they entered the clearing, one of his hands still clutching Dean’s hand. Fortunately, they hadn’t pulled out their guns.

“Tom, are you alright?” Sam asked.

“Of course,” the boy said and continued his happy dance around the snowman. 

That’s when the snowman moved again. It turned slowly and stopped facing them, its big white head adorned with coal for eyes and a carrot for a nose. It had a blue scarf around its fat neck.

“Welcome, Sam,” it rumbled. Sam, standing the closest to it, froze in shock. “Dean, Castiel. Welcome.”

Dean’s hand squeezed Castiel’s fingers tighter.

“I know you’re worried about little Tom’s safety,” the snowman continued. It had a mouth that looked as if it had been drawn on, and it moved as it spoke. “There’s no need, I promise. I mean him no harm.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Why have you kidnapped him, then?”

The snowman let out a loud laugh. “I did not kidnap him. I simply made his wish come true.”

“Tommy?” Sam looked down at the boy. “Is that true? Did you want the snowman to take you here?”

The child stopped dancing and tilted his head. “Well, not here, maybe,” he said. “But yeah! I told him that.”

“But why?” Sam asked. 

Tommy made a face. “Have you seen my house? My parents?” When Sam nodded wordlessly, Tom rolled his eyes. “They hate Christmas! I just… wanted Christmas.”

Castiel felt Dean move beside him.

“You,” he said, finger pointing to the snowman. “What are you?”

The snowman smiled. “I’m just a snowman, Dean.”

“How do you know our names?” Dean demanded.

“Because he’s magical!” Tom said. “That’s easy. He can fly, too!”

“Tommy,” Sam said and crouched down to look at the boy. “Your parents have been very worried.”

“They shouldn’t be,” Tom said. “I’m coming back home today.”

“You are?” Sam looked up at the snowman. “Are you… taking him home?”

When the snowman nodded its big head, Dean let out an unbelieving laugh. 

“This is crazy. Cas?” He looked back at Castiel, question in his eyes. “What’s going on here?”

Castiel let go of Dean’s hand and took a few steps towards the snowman, palm outstretched. When the creature didn’t react, he touched the snow on its body with his fingertips and closed his eyes.

It was as if a warm gush of wind blew over him, carrying scents and feelings along with it. Light, love, laughter; cinnamon and holly, evergreen and ginger. Castiel felt cold and warm all over, heard the bells, saw the stars. He opened his eyes, looked at the snowman, and smiled.

“It’s okay,” he said, turning to Dean and Sam. “It’s telling the truth.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, anxious.

Castiel chuckled. “It’s Christmas.”

Before any of them could comment on that, the animals appeared all around the snowman and the boy started laughing again. Dean sent Castiel a bewildered look, but Castiel just smiled at him, inched closer, and took his hand. 

They watched, silent, as the boy played in the snow, building tiny snowmen and castles, running around with the animals, talking to the snowman. Castiel didn’t know if he was the only one, but he could hear music, loud and merry and ethereal. Dean’s hand felt warm in his fingers, and Sam stood right beside them, his cheeks rosy and lips parted in a smile.

Soon enough — or a few hours later — the light appeared in the far east and the boy ran towards them, still as excited and untired as before.

“It’s time to go home,” he said and he was smiling even despite the layer of sadness audible in his voice.

They didn’t say anything as they walked towards the snowman and watched as the animals dispersed into the woods. The snowman looked at them with a smile.

“Ready?” it asked.

“What are we—” Dean asked, panicked, his fingers squeezing Castiel’s hand.

The light burst around them before he could finish and suddenly they were standing in the Hendersons’ front yard, the first light of the dawn colouring the dark sky. Dean and Sam were breathing heavily and Castiel could feel his heart beating in his chest.

They watched as Tommy hugged the snowman, both crying and laughing. The snowman unwrapped the blue scarf from its neck and bent to give it back to the boy.

“Merry Christmas, Tom,” it said.

Tommy beamed at him. “Merry Christmas!”

The snowman turned slowly to look at Castiel, Dean, and Sam. 

“And what about you? Any wishes?”

Sam shook his head, speechless. Castiel just smiled and squeezed Dean’s hand. Dean opened his mouth, but no sound came.

The snowman smiled. “Of course,” it said and raised its hand one more time.

❄❄❄

“Boys!” Jody called when they blinked their eyes open in the bunker. She had just entered the war room. “They're back!” she called back towards the kitchen.

Sam sat down in the nearest chair, face a little pale.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Jody asked.

“What just happened?” Dean stuttered.

Castiel closed in on him, touched his face with his hands to make sure he was alright. Then he smiled. “I think the snowman granted you a wish, Dean.”

Dean shook his head, bewildered. “But, uh. What wish?”

Mary chose that moment to burst into the room, dressed in a lovely white sweater and with a wide smile on her face. “Boys!” she repeated after Jody. “You made it!”

Sam laughed weakly. “Barely.”

When Mary sent him a quizzical look, Sam and Castiel explained what had happened as best and as quick as they could while Dean just stood and looked around, an almost-there smile clearly visible in his eyes as he watched his family interact. Soon, Mary ushered them deeper into the bunker while Jody went to wake up the girls.

“I’m gonna go check on the car,” Dean said and stepped back towards the stairs. “I really hope it remembered to bring my car back, too.”

“I’ll come with you,” Castiel said immediately.

“Make it quick,” Mary said and grabbed Sam’s arm. “Come, Sammy, let’s check out the tree!”

“There’s a tree?” Sam laughed.

Castiel looked away from them and met Dean’s gaze. Dean smiled, a small and secretive thing, and held out his hand for Castiel.

Castiel intertwined their fingers as they climbed the stairs and went outside. It was still early morning and there was no snow here, and the Impala was parked neatly just outside the bunker. 

“Thank God,” Dean sighed.

He was still wearing the beanie, but he took it off as soon as they noticed it was considerably warmer here. Castiel looked down at the scarf around his neck and made to take it off, too, but Dean moved and grabbed it with his hands. 

“Wait,” he murmured, inching closer. “It suits you.”

“I don’t need it,” Castiel said back, just as quiet, laughing a bit.

Dean shrugged and pulled Castiel closer by the scarf to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulder and melted into him.

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean whispered against his lips.

Castiel smiled into the kiss. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Make sure to keep an eye for other works that will be posted throughout December on the challenge blog and collected here on AO3. Happy December and happy holidays!


End file.
